


A Reclaimed Serendipity

by ominousrum



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Killian thinks about his past, and we all need to cry, season six spec fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 10:53:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11011983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ominousrum/pseuds/ominousrum
Summary: The sting of her passing had long since faded but the space in his soul where she used to dwell would never really be filled. An orphan’s an orphan.





	A Reclaimed Serendipity

After the demon Gideon is gone, Killian lets his rage sink to the soles of his boots in its futility. His mind is anything but clear though he’ll need it to be if he’s to make his way back to Emma - to find her and somehow get her to understand that he didn’t leave her. That he would _never_ leave her. Not like this and never wholly - his heart would always reside with her whether it be in Heaven or on Earth or back in the Underworld. 

It was an odd feeling to be in the water again. His bones hummed a soft familiar song of calm whilst his blood ran cold and unsettled in his veins. The ocean was no longer his home, the quiet confidant eager to hold his secrets. Home was his Swan’s hand resting on the small of his back, the pale jade of her eyes in the morning light. He had to get back to her. 

He was vaguely aware of Nemo watching him pace the length of the Nautilus, having tasked the crew to get their bearings in the new realm they had been transported to. 

“Killian, come sit a while. If we are to find our way back to your land, we should stop to fuel our minds. Ms. Lucas was kind enough to provide us sustenance for our journey.”

Nemo gestured to a box of sandwiches and fruit set on a table. Killian reluctantly shuffled towards the closest chair, though his fist did not stop clenching and relaxing as his mind whirred with a thousand thoughts. 

“You and Liam have both spoken of your father, and Liam of his mother,” the Captain said, rich and low, “but I’ve yet to hear of yours Killian.”

Nemo was a peculiar sort. His ability to find out the heart of the matter was both comforting and unnerving. Killian was sure the man had a sixth sense, especially in matters of the human condition. The conversation with Snow on the docks had rattled Killian, cutting through years of cloudy memories to twist a long forgotten encounter to the front of his mind. Somehow Nemo had discerned it from a single look. 

“She died when I was just a lad,” Killian whispered. The sting of her passing had long since faded but the space in his soul where she used to dwell would never really be filled. _An orphan’s an orphan._

“Do you remember her?”

“Aye, a bit.” Killian pierced an apple with the tip of his hook, watching the juice run down its side as he brought it closer to him. 

“Sometimes the answers to our future lie in our past.” Nemo took a bite of sandwich, chewing thoughtfully. 

“Not sure if I can escape history repeating itself.”

“It often does. Though I find ignoring it entirely brings about that exact result.”

Killian let his eyes close as the hazy image of his mother drifted back into his mind. He can remember the musical lilt of her voice far better than the shape of her face or the colour or her hair. He had been only four when she died. Far too young to understand anything apart from the fact it was most certainly his fault. 

He had caught a sickness which had ravaged his tiny lungs, causing him to cough up sputum at all hours of the day and night. Father and Liam had been too busy trying to do an honest days work to catch the full brunt of it, but his mother who was always at his side eventually succumbed. If only he had kept himself away from her - if he had just toughened up enough to extricate himself from being constantly underfoot. She surely would have survived. 

Killian had felt the smallest bit better that fateful day, enough to scribble down a picture of the ships in the harbour he had seen. He’d brought it to show her, finding her lying down, clearly confused and wincing at the afternoon sunshine streaming in from the window.

 

_“Who’s there?”_

_“It’s just me, mama.”_

_“Killian? You should be in bed, love.”_

_“I’m sorry. I just wanted to show you what I drew.”_

_“Of course, dear. Come here.”_

_“Are you feeling better, mama?”_

_“Don’t you worry about me. You’re still on the mend yourself.”_

_“I’m fine today. Should I go back to bed?”_

_“No, little love. I’m so happy it’s you I get to see just now.”_

 

Centuries later he can still feel the gentle squeeze of her arms around his shoulders if he tries hard enough. He doesn’t have to try to relive the moment they go slack. 

“It would seem as though you’re miles away, Killian.”

“Something Emma’s mother - Snow - said reminded me of the last moments I had with my own mother,” Killian revealed, throat constricting with sadness. “I suppose fate has a way of weaving its mark into everything, even things we wish we could forget.”

“What do you wish you could forget, son?”

“A fair few things, I daresay. I would be content to merely stop reliving variations of the same theme.” Killian sighed.

“It sounds as though this new family you’re a part of is the key to creating a different history. One that won’t be shaken by the patterns you feel the need to run from.”

“Aye. I hope it’s not too late to save it.”

“Never underestimate hope. It’s a powerful thing.” Nemo gave him a knowing smile.

“You sound as though you’ve taken a page out of Snow’s book yourself, Captain.” Killian cocked an eyebrow at his old friend, his heavy heart momentarily lightened. 

“I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure of meeting her, although she does sound very wise.”

Despite their dire situation, hurtling hundreds of feet further away from Storybrooke by the minute, Killian felt a small fragment of hope burn bright in his chest. 

He would not give up his chance at happiness - he had to try for his shot, whether he need go to the end of time for it. If only for that simple moment where the goodness in the world was happy to see him.


End file.
